


The Lesser Regret

by Jaye_Voy



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Voy/pseuds/Jaye_Voy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk learned more than he should have from the mind meld with the older Spock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lesser Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Story contains references to events in "Star Trek III: The Search for Spock."  
> Originally written in 2009. Although there are some tweaks, the story's contents, the story's contents (and its flaws) are mostly intact.  
> No sequel---for me, they're too much big brother/little brother to be likely lovers.  
> Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property of Gene Roddenberry as re-envisioned by JJ Abrams. No infringement is intended or profit made. This is PG-13 for adult themes and language.

McCoy settled into his chair, tilting it back with a sigh. He lifted his feet, rested crossed ankles on a corner of the desk. His nostrils flared as he raised the snifter of brandy, breathing in the vapors as the warmth of his palm transferred to the glass. Sick Bay was *finally* empty, no patients or staff to interrupt his moment of peace.

He let his gaze drift over the walls of his office, the lack of windows something no one would ever hear him complain about. He didn't need to see the stars ambling past to know the Enterprise was gliding high above Earth. Too far away from good solid ground and air that wasn't held together by just a few thin layers of metal and other materials.

*His* office. At least for now. Maybe for longer, if the brass kept their heads out of their collective backsides and stuck with the crew that had come into its own on this first wild trip. They'd all find out their assignments soon enough---the higher-ups were probably just waiting on Pike to get his breath back a bit, now that alien critter was dug out of his skull.

"Bones," Kirk announced himself with a sly grin. He executed an un-captain-like plop into a visitor's chair, one hand already reaching for the brandy. "You've been holding out on me."

McCoy let his feet drop with a bang as he made a quick grab for the bottle. He cradled it protectively against his chest. "Back off. I'm not about to waste this fine libation on a man who orders his liquor by the keg."

"C'mon Bones," Kirk whined, then darted forward and swiped the snifter from McCoy's other hand.

"Damn it!" After three years, he knew his glare would have about as much effect as an empty phaser. So he just shook his head in resignation and pointed toward the tray with the other glasses.

Kirk saluted him with the stolen snifter before reaching over and plucking an empty one to hold out like a peace offering.

"Hmph." McCoy snatched it. He poured almost half a glass, figuring he'd need it. He leaned back in his chair again, bottle casually slid out of sight under the desk. "At least *sip* the damn stuff, you reprobate."

That earned a smirk, but Kirk did take the time to savor the mouthful before swallowing and leaning forward. Kirk set his elbows on his thighs, the glass dangling between his cupped hands. He squinted as he tilted his head to look up at McCoy. "Did you hear about what happened on Delta Vega?"

"Exactly what might you be referring to?" Scotty had spun McCoy quite a yarn over beer and sandwiches. The new engineer surely did love to talk. McCoy now knew more about transporters and warp drives and "space being the thing that moved" than any sane man would want to. He just wasn't sure he believed any of it.

Kirk looked down as he swirled his drink, the lights glinting golden on the waves of his hair. "I met someone while I was stranded." He looked up, captured McCoy in that bright blue gaze that always sparked memories of a Georgia summer dawn. "I met...Spock."

Like he was expecting McCoy to ask what the blasted hell *that* meant Kirk shot to his feet. "Not *our* Spock." He crossed his arms and started to pace back and forth. "He---he came from the same place Nero did."

McCoy felt the first ripple of unease in his stomach. Maybe Scotty's tale wasn't as far-fetched as he'd thought. "The man just stepped right up and told you he's from the future?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Kirk shrugged, kept moving. "And then he---he did some weird thing that---" He shook his head and moved back to his chair, collapsing into it as his brows drew together and his fingers tightened around his glass. "I saw into his *mind*, Bones."

"What?" McCoy sat up, set his brandy aside to stare, palms pressed flat to the desk.

"I don't know, he---" Kirk waved his free hand like that would help explain it. "He was showing me things, things about Nero, but I kept getting these flashes about him...about all of us."

"Huh." McCoy knew there were references to Vulcan mental abilities in his medical texts, but they hadn't indicated any cross-species applications. It seemed some further research was in order. He should...

"Bones!" Kirk snapped. He leaned forward. "I saw how Spock and I saved each other's lives, a dozen times at least. But---I don't really get how it happened, but---Spock thinks you saved his *soul* or something."

McCoy snorted. "I'm a doctor, not a preacher." He couldn't picture the man he'd served under these last few days even admitting he *had* a soul, much less that McCoy could do anything to save it.

Kirk's mouth was twitching into a grin, but he shook his head. "He was like, living *in* you, or part of you, or something...and he found out that..."

McCoy's stomach clenched as he swallowed. Kirk's eyes flicked to his and he felt pinned, waiting.

"He thought that you---that *his* Bones---was---was in love with me." Kirk cleared his throat, a flush creeping over his face.

An eyebrow was arching. McCoy could feel it, even as the rest of him seemed frozen in place.

His stunned reaction must have done the trick for Kirk, at least. Kirk's eyes were regaining their usual gleam as he grinned and leaned back in the chair, stretching out his legs and gesturing with the glass. "So, Bones, are you, y'know...?"

Now Kirk was looking at him with that mix of mischief and interest he'd seen countless times over the last three years. In bars, in the cafeteria, in the gym, on the quad, in the halls outside class.

McCoy had seen that expression *a lot*. It was Jim Kirk's "on the prowl" face, and never once before now had it been directed at *him*. And Kirk's anticipation held just the smallest hint of smugness, as if McCoy should just be nodding and eagerly jumping in to join the endless romp of James T. Kirk's sexual conquests.

Sometimes he found it hard to believe there was only a few years' difference between them. Kirk was so bold, so bright, so *young*. So very young. Or maybe it was just that McCoy felt so very old.

He knew that Kirk couldn't help it. Kirk was like the sun in August---it was meant to shine so that's what it did. Never mind that a body could be burned to a crisp under the blaze. If you weren't careful.

And McCoy had been very careful. He'd seen the parade of gorgeous guys and gals that had marked time in his best friend's bed. There was no way he'd be able to win that omnisexual beauty pageant. Not long enough for it to matter.

Because sooner or later---usually sooner---Kirk always walked away from his lovers. And while McCoy knew that the divorce had stripped him to little more than his skin, he was sure that having and losing Kirk would burn him to cinders and ash. Dust left to drift through the rest of his life.

So McCoy shrugged, casual, made himself pick up his glass and turn it in his fingers. "That's a different universe, Jim. Different Spock, different you...different me."

The way Kirk's face relaxed into such profound relief sent a sharp spike straight through McCoy's gut. He acknowledged both with a stretch of lips that couldn't rightly be called a smile, but it must have been convincing.

"Thought so." Kirk tossed back the rest of his drink, launched to his feet with a wink and pivoted on his heel. "At least I got a look at what's coming up next for the Enterprise---and a good idea of how to push Spock's buttons."

McCoy's fingers tightened around the snifter as he growled, "Damn it, Jim, don't screw this up."

Kirk spun back, eyes narrowed.

McCoy just tilted his chin. "Whatever your pointy-eared friend shared with you won't make a goddamn bit of difference. You know the deal---it's a brand new deck of cards we're playing with here, and nobody knows what the next hand'll be."

He held the stare. "The Spock you met on that glorified ice cube isn't the Spock you know, probably never was." He took in, released a breath. "Best you don't forget it."

Kirk didn't say a word, but his gaze went scalpel-sharp a moment before he nodded once and turned to leave.

As the door slid shut McCoy sighed and leaned back in his chair once more. The rim of the glass was cool against his lips as he took another mouthful of brandy. He closed his eyes, lost himself in the smoke-sweet flavor of grapes mellowed by their dark prison of oak and time.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcomed with great joy and constructive criticism is treasured as a rare gift.


End file.
